


whole again

by myla_r



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 04:26:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17196500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myla_r/pseuds/myla_r
Summary: Marti is tired. Nicco is spiraling. But when it's the two of them against the world (or, uh, pasta making), nothing is that bad.





	whole again

These are the kind of bad days Martino was talking to Eva about. Nicco has been spiraling for a few days. Marti’s mamma is out to visit his aunt, so Nicco crashes at his place these days, and Marti’s sleep has really suffered the past few nights. He stayed up with Nicco, talking about anything and everything in a calm voice. He talked him out of calling the municipal office about something related to setting up more streetlights. He made carbonara at 3 am in the morning when Nicco was all talked out and famished. He ran his fingers through Nicco’s unruly dark hair as they both tried to get to sleep. After his exam today, for which he ended up studying at the last minute, it is safe to say that Marti is exhausted. He has had more coffee in the last 3 days than any one person should be legally allowed to consume. On the bus back home, he rests his head against the window and closes his eyes, sighing to himself. His eyes feel tired but he’s glad to be done with the stupid Biology test. If he had to remember the structure of a cell for one more day, he’d start cursing the cells in his own body. He thinks about Nicco, who he left this morning, still sleeping in Marti’s bed. Nicco decided to take the day off and sleep in after almost three continuous nights of no sleep. Marti was tempted to join him, not wanting to leave the warm sheets and his sleep-warm boyfriend pressed against his front. But the stupid Biology test.

Marti thinks of Nicco and smiles softly to himself. The past few days have been hard, true, but Marti keeps surprising himself with how much he is able, and willing, to do when it comes to Nicco. How much he loves him. A year ago, he’s have balked at the idea of being in love with a boy, let alone a boy who is better experienced than explained. Whose brain and heart aren’t always on the same page. Who deals with demons in his head that Marti will never be able to fully understand, but wants to drive them away nonetheless. But here he is, being in love with and caring for Nicco. Is it more than he asked for? Yes. In all possible ways. It’s more stressful on days like these. It’s more worrying than Marti ever thought he was capable of. It’s more responsibility - remembering the last time Nicco ate, casually slipping in questions about his medicine, keeping the both of them away from smoking too often. But it is also so much love than he thought he would ever have. The way Nicco looks at him sometimes makes his breath catch. It is so much more adoration and support. It is so much more real than Marti ever felt before in his life. The feeling he got standing on top of the skyscraper in Milano? Clean air in his lungs, giddy with feeling alive, a warm hand - Nicco’s - in his. That’s what it feels like all the time now. Now that he knows Nicco is in love with him. Now that he knows his mamma loves him the way he is. Now that the contrabbandieri come over to hang out with Nicco and he sees them all - his boys, he calls them in his head - hanging out in school together, waiting for Marti to be done with class. It feels like his world has come together. After a long time of feeling like he was holding shards of his world together by sheer force of will, it feels whole again. He feels whole again.

The bus stops in front of his house with a screech and Marti scrambles to get off before the doors close. He opens the door to his house with a “Ciao!” and waits for Nicco’s answer. When nothing comes, he frowns and throws his bag and jacket on the floor by the door, listening for sounds of life. He finally stops in his tracks when he sees Nicco standing in the kitchen, still dressed in Marti’s clothes that he insists on wearing to sleep, staring intensely at a pot on the stove. The kitchen counter is strewn with dishes, and Marti spots the milk and parmesan they bought at the grocery store yesterday also amongst the mess.

“Ciao,” Marti says again, this time softer, leaning against the kitchen door.

Nicco hears him this time, turning around. His face is a picture of consternation - his thick eyebrows knitted together and his mouth turned upside down. Marti thinks he looks cute, but stops himself from smiling, or worse, walking towards him and ruffling his hair, because there’s clearly something troubling his beautiful boyfriend. 

Nicco’s face clears up a little as he looks at Marti, and he replies with a sheepish Ciao, but no explanation for the storm he’s apparently cooked up in Marti’s kitchen. Or tried to. 

Marti walks in and looks towards the pot that Nicco was staring at. It’s a lumpy white liquid bubbling away, but looking not quite… right. 

“What’s this?” Marti asks.

“Bechamel.” 

Marti looks up in surprise to see Nicco eyeing the wannabe-Bechamel like it has betrayed him. Nicco cannot cook - that is common knowledge. After the Christmas party disaster with Luchi, it’s just been an unspoken agreement between the two of them that Nicco shouldn’t cook. 

“Your bechamel looks-- umm.”

“I know, okay?” Nicco says shortly, suddenly looking very tired. 

Okay, this is clearly not about messing up a sauce. Something is up. Marti walks closer to Nicco, who looks away and leans against the counter. 

“Why are you cooking?” Marti eyes Nicco, trying to get him to meet his eyes. 

When Nicco still won’t look at him, Marti lifts his hands to cup his boyfriend’s jaw. Nicco only gets this way when he’s embarrassed or flustered about something. And Marti has realized it’s always best to ask him what’s wrong and get it out of the way before it comes between them. So he gently strokes Nicco’s cheeks till Nicco meets his eyes. Marti raises his eyebrows in question, still wanting to know what’s happening.

Nicco sighs. “I was trying to make food before you came back after your test. I thought you would like it.”

Marti still doesn’t understand. “But, I cook for us. Did you forget the last time we talked about you cooking? You can’t cook.”

Nicco makes a frustrated sound at the back of his throat and steps away from Marti. “Yeah, I can’t cook.” He looks at Marti with a strained smile on his face. “I can’t go to school. I can’t help you study. I can’t even fall asleep at night. I can’t do anything, can I?”

Marti’s heart clenches momentarily, pained at the words of the boy standing in front of him. Suddenly, things make more sense and Marti softens his expression.

“You know that’s not true,” he says quietly. “Why do you feel like this?”

Nicco keeps his eyes stubbornly on the kitchen counter, his jaw tense and arms folded. 

This won’t work, Marti thinks. He steps closer to Nicco again, putting his hand on a folded arm, and asks, “Ni?”

Marti knows Nicco loves it when Marti calls him Ni. It’s something they do only when it’s just the two of them. Marti knows that using it now is right, because it reminds Nicco that it’s just the two of them in this kitchen right now. It’s the two of them against whatever is bothering Nicco. It’s the two of them against everything the world throws at the. And when it’s the two of them, everything is safe. Marti calls Nicco Ni to remind him that no one is judging him here. No one will tell Nicco what to feel or what to do here. His feelings are safe.

Nicco drops his folded arms after a few seconds of hesitation and takes Marti’s hand instead, finally looking up at him with big brown eyes that still look a little sleep-dull. “You’re always doing things for me. I know it was hard for you... taking the test today when we didn’t get much sleep last night. I slept but you had to wake up and go. You have me to handle here, and then the rest of the world outside. I just wanted to… I wanted to do something. For you.” He ends with a shrug, hand still clutching Marti’s.

Marti shakes his head and smiles, linking their finger together. “Stupido,” he chuckles.

“What?” Nicco looks at him, puzzled.

“Ni, I love you but you are dumb.”

“What do you mean?” Nicco’s face looks even more confused than before, but no longer troubled.

“Amore mio, your idea of doing something for me is to give me food poisoning, is it? Do you remember the last time you cooked? Luchi didn’t leave the bathroom for two hours and used up two toilet paper rolls. We had to febreeze the whole house.”

At this, Nicco’s face splits into a smile and he swats Marti on the arm. “Stronzo! It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was, and Luchi will remind you if you ask him.” Marti laughs. Nicco laughs with him. This feels better. It feels like coming back from the edge to a better place. They’re safe now. But Marti can’t move on from here without making one thing clear. He takes both of Nicco’s hands again and puts them around him, and then clasps his own hands around Nicco’s waist to pull him closer. 

“I don’t handle you, stupido,” Marti says in a quiet voice, “I care about you. I love you. Do you love me?”

Nicco’s eyes widen and he gives Marti a half-smile and reaches up to kiss him gently. “Of course. I love you.”

“Then you do enough. You don’t need to give me food poisoning to prove it.”

Nicco breaks into a laugh, arms still around Marti, pressed against his front. Marti feels the boy’s laughter through his own body, and it makes Marti grin. He looks at his boyfriend - bedhead intact, laughing brown eyes, dressed in one of Marti’s soft blue sleep shirts - and his heart feels full. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel as tired as before.

Marti leans down to give Nicco a short kiss before turning his attention back to the lumpy Bechamel, which has now turned brown and is starting to smell like burnt milk. 

“So, how about we start from scratch, huh? Because I don’t think I can rescue this.”

**Author's Note:**

> couple of FYIs:   
> \- i haven't written anything fiction for a REALLY long time. like, really long. so i know how shit this is.  
> \- i love martino and his story. it got to me like not a lot of things do anymore.   
> \- i know nothing about bpd so i apologize for any mischaracterization.   
> \- my own exposure to italian was the one three day trip i took to italy last year, and this show, but adding some italian words here and there felt more natural to me, maybe it feels weird to the readers. but yeah, i chose to do that because i felt more them.  
> \- this is obviously not really beta'd or proofread.  
> \- i watched an italian friend fret over his bechamel... hence.


End file.
